


Shoot to Thrill

by mangobanner



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Peter Parker Misses Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, SHIELD, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Worried May Parker (Spider-Man)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28196193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangobanner/pseuds/mangobanner
Summary: It's not that Peter doesn't like Gavin Carver, he just doesn't get him. His aunt's new boyfriend is a walking contradiction: a hopelessly nerdy history professor with the body of a navy seal. Yet, their relationship is perfect—almost too perfect. When Gavin fills the opening as a chaperone on his class trip to Europe, Peter’s prepared for utter and total embarrassment. But with the emergence of Mysterio, Gavin is forced to reveal himself for who he really is: an undercover SHIELD agent tasked with keeping an eye on peter in the world post-Thanos. Dating May was only supposed to be part of the act, but Gavin ended up falling for her...hard.
Relationships: May Parker/Original Male Character(s), Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Bang, Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Gavin’s face claim is Jensen Ackles.

**GAVIN ADJUSTED THE SCOPE ON** his glasses, the shadowy shipyard coming into focus. He was in an awkward spot: belly down on the roof of a shipping container, a maze of rusted metal and abandoned machinery below him. He didn't move, his whole body stock still and just tense. It was almost like there was a floodlight shining right on him—a million little bullet holes piercing his skin.

He knew what it was like to be torn into, but not in a clean way—he'd been ripped.

The darkness that blanketed him had a mind of his own. A few hours into the stakeout, it really started to creep up on him. It wanted him to remember things—everything bad and bloody.

Luckily, Gavin was skilled in the art of forgetting.

A sharp _clang_ came from somewhere to his right. He held his breath in his chest; waiting. Gavin's hand moved to his earpiece, his voice nothing but a strained whisper. "Hill—tell me that was you."

" ** _Sorry_ ,**" Maria Hill's voice crackled back. " _ **Looks like you've got company. I count two heat signatures. Something's jamming the satellite. Just sit tight, and we can get someone down there.**_ " There was a small pause. " _ **If they can keep us in the dark like this, they mean serious business.**_ "

"And whatever they're handling's gotta be heavy duty too _,_ " Gavin mused. "We can't wait, though. I'm not letting two months of work go by like that. What's worse is we still don't know who we're dealing with."

" _ **Which makes them dangerous.**_ "

"Mmhm..." Gavin slid quietly down the side of the container, boots crunching in the dirt.

" _ **And, you're already goin' after them?**_ " Maria sighed.

"Yep."

" _ **Alone?**_ "

"Yep," he repeated, slinking along the metal wall. He reached under his jacket to the small of his back, fingers closing around the grip of his pistol. "Just a little recon—I won't engage." Gavin touched the side of his glasses, switching to infrared. He crept along, holding the pistol up to his cheek. "I'm not getting anything. Are you sure there were two?"

" _ **Yeah. I just—shit. They were just there. Carver, don't start poking around. Something's not right.**_ "

"You're tellin' me," Gavin mumbled, sneaking a glance around a tower of crates. He allowed himself a small smile. "Aw—jeez, you aren't worried about me, are you? That's real sweet."

" ** _I mean it. Get out of there, seriously—there could be more of them._** "

There was a sharp _clang_ , like before, accompanied with low voices. Gavin crouched low to the ground, hand steadying the pistol. He admired Maria's stubbornness—one of her more trademark qualities—but only up until a point. Gavin would and could play the good little soldier, nodding along with a careful, directed obedience—when he wanted to.

"You think it shoulda been you out here, huh?" It wasn't a question—not really.

" _ **...Yes.**_ " The other agent was firm. " _ **It should have. But, I'm not doing this with you. Not right now. We'll have another shot—another night.**_ "

Gavin bit the inside of his cheek. "No, we won't."

The silence on the other end of the com was telling. Gavin ventured deeper into the yard, following the sound of scraping and talking; growing louder. He stopped short, crouching behind a pile of sheet metal. The infrared showed two heat signatures. They moved quickly, loading long grey crates into a shipping container.

He switched to night vision. He could see them clearly now, maybe ten yards away: dressed in black with thick soled boots. He tapped the side of his glasses once, zooming in on the crates—unmarked. He mumbled something to himself, digging his heels in the dirt as he tried to get a better angle—a fatal mistake.

"Did you hear that?" One of the men in black nudged the other, hand dropping to the weapon at his side. He peered into the night, eyes doing a careful sweep of the yard.

Gavin froze, wincing.

The other man gave a dismissive sigh, resting his palms on the crate he was handling. "No. You said the same thing an hour ago and it ended up being a rat. You're hearin' things."

"This wasn't no rat. 'Sounded like someone walkin' or something."

Gavin adjusted his grip on his pistol, raising it to be level with his chest. He moved like lighting, stepping out from behind the sheet metal and firing two shots. The men crumbled to the ground.

" _ **Carver?**_ " Maria demanded.

"Yes, ma'am?" Gavin chirped, grinning as he approached the crates.

" _ **What happened to recon only? We need them alive if we're gonna unravel all this.**_ "

"Relax," Gavin muttered, kneeling down next to one of the bodies. "I know what we're dealing with—trust me, the less of these freaks around the better."

" _ **Elaborate.**_ "

"I'm sending you pictures." Gavin's finger moved to the top of his glasses, capturing a few images of the crates. He turned the body over, examining the wrist. "I could tell by the accents—and the crates. Yep—see that?" He snapped a picture of a small tattoo: a snake in black ink. "I've run into them before. They usually work off the coast of Southern Europe—Africa too. They're middlemen, but dangerous. They're got a bit of an ego, and won't take work from just anybody. Whatever's in these crates is some good shit."

" _ **They're not in our system—neither is that snake branding. You know this all from...what? Some of your past excursions?**_ " Maria tested him.

"Yep. And, ain't you lucky to have me now." Gavin muttered back, prying the top off one of the crates. "...Shit."

" _ **What?**_ "

"Stark tech," Gavin told her, using his phone as a flashlight to examine the crate's contents. "Short-range missiles—Stark stopped manufacturing weapons years ago. I didn't think this stuff was still in circulation. I'm guessing these are old. There's other stuff. I don't know what the hell any of it is, though. You gettin' all this?"

" _ **Yes. I'm sending the pictures to Analysis. We've got enough to go on—but, it's not like we can ask Stark himself**_ ," Maria said dryly. " _ **Just get to the extraction point. Fury'll want a debriefing.**_ "

Gavin covered the crate, stepping over the body and cutting quickly across the yard. "Sorry—rain check. I've got plans tonight."

Maria laughed at that. " _ **Mmhm. Getting drunk alone and watching football highlights doesn't count.**_ "

"I'll have you know I have a _date_ —with my wonderful girlfriend. We're getting Thai for dinner. I happen to know a place with an excellent red curry." Gavin was very matter of fact.

" _ **Oh, yes. Your Special Spider Project. How's that treatin' ya?**_ "

"I wish you wouldn't call it that."

" _ **Go get 'er, tiger.**_ " Maria's parting jibe rang in his ears. He sighed, trudging along in silence. His cellphone buzzed in his pocket—his other cellphone. He fished it out, bringing it to his ear. "Hey, you alright?"

"I was just checking in on you." May Parker sounded tired, yet cheerful. "You said your lecture would run a bit late, but it's almost nine. You didn't forget about me, did you?"

"I couldn't if I tried," Gavin replied smoothly. "And, I swear—these kids and all their questions. They'd keep me here until midnight if I let 'em. Don't worry—I'm picking up dinner on my way over. I'll be there in thirty minutes, alright?"

"Mmm—don't take too long. You know how I get when I'm hungry. Love you—see you in a bit."

"Love ya." Gavin hung up, something in his gut tugging at him. He could definitely make it in thirty minutes, but that was if Maria was feeling generous.


	2. Soul Kitchen

" **SO, WHERE'S PETER?" GAVIN SLIPPED** off his boots, settling into the worn kitchen chair. May was pouring two generous glasses of wine from behind the counter, and Gavin couldn't help but just _look_. Damn, she was special. Overarching Assignment or not, May Parker was a complete catch. If you'd asked him a few months ago what he looked for in a woman, it'd be someone rough around the edges and who called him his father's son—someone who picked fights for fun.

But May was—truly—all good things. That either made Nick Fury the world's greatest matchmaker or the world's biggest asshole. Gavin suspected the latter. It wasn't fair, really. He'd never wanted something real in love before.

And, with May, he couldn't have it.

May sat across from him, sliding over one of the glasses. "At his friends' place." She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back a little. "It's good, y'know? 'Makes him happy."

Gavin nodded, slowly rotating the bottom of his glass. "Oh, yeah—Neil, right?"

"Ned," May corrected him, chuckling a little.

"Alright—yeah, hey, I'm trying." Gavin took a small, tentative sip of wine, eyeing May over the rim of the glass.

"I know you are," she reassured him, reaching across the table to squeeze Gavin's hand. "I see it, really. You're not exactly...in a position to have to, but you do anyway. Pete's a special kid, to say the least, and you—well, never mind."

"What?" Gavin wondered.

"He needs someone like you, like the way you've been there for me—I don't know how to put it. He's been through hell, and..." Her voice trailed off.

"The Blip, you mean?"

She nodded. "It's that, I think, but...there's more. He's lost so much. I think he's mad at me a bit, under the surface. Maybe it's 'cause..." She stared moodily into her glass. "Well, I gained you. I think he resents that—spends more nights at Ned's."

Gavin just laughed; dry and hollow. "You might be overthinking it. It's just his way of telling you he doesn't like me."

"He likes you," May insisted. "Don't say that, he does. He just needs time. Like I said, he's lost a lot—too much for someone his age."

"Y'know, I was gone too."

"Of course I do. You know what I meant." May just sighed a little, resting her glass on her thigh. "But, there's just...stuff I'm not sure how to talk about—or if I can. It's just been me and him for so long. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that you walked into something normal. You didn't."

Gavin wasn't from a world of sincerity, which made May that much more refreshing. The way she longed to pull him close, to spill her secrets—it created a warm feeling in his chest. May was normal, she was safety, she was goodness. He found it a bit ironic, though. She thought she was horrible to keep things from him, he could see it in her eyes. Willing to almost cry for him—over things she didn't know he already knew.

Meanwhile, he was the liar. And one day, he'd be gone—gone before she even realized it.

"Hey," Gavin said soothingly, sitting forward a little. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to 'till you're ready. I know a thing or two about being guarded. I don't have to see all your dirty laundry from the get-go. And, if I do, I'll love it. Every piece of it—you."

May's smile was so sad and grateful, like a mourner at a funeral. "Y'know, so many guys pretend to be like you. Seriously—you're like the last person in the world that I can say anything to and won't get twisted up about it. You're always...one hundred percent who you say you are."

Gavin stewed in her words for a moment, guilt sitting in his stomach like a rock. He was almost relieved when he felt the phone in his pocket buzz—the left pocket.

He sighed, pulling it out. "Work—lovely."

"At this time of night?"

"I'm guessing it's the department chair. I've been trying to get this medieval medicine course added for months." He got up, kissing the top of May's head apologetically. "I'll be like, ten minutes."

Gavin squeezed his way into the bathroom from the narrow hallway, shutting and locking the door behind him. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the toilet, turning on his phone and dropping it in his lap. "Hey—you figure out the deal with our mystery cargo?"

" _ **...Yes and no.**_ " Maria told him. " _ **You were right—the missiles were older, and probably some of the last weapons Stark ever produced. I'm sure they found their way to the black market through the usual channels. The other tech's a whole 'nother animal. It's Stark made—some kind of virtual reality stuff. He's demonstrated a similar model before: Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. In the wrong hands, it could be twisted into who knows what. I'm glad we caught it when we did. I'm sure there's more like it out there, but that poses a bigger question.**_ "

"Yeah—what evil tech-ass freak was willing to go low and pay big bucks to have it shipped here?" Gavin offered.

" ** _Mmhm. You're already working undercover, so I won't risk anything by pulling you into this. Fury would like you to consult. I know you're familiar with all this—not the tech part so much. We're trying to trace it back through the group who was handling it. It's not a lot to go on, I know._** "

"No, yeah, I—look, May's waitin' on me, but Fury knows I come when he calls. Just keep me in the loop on this. I've got a bad feeling about it."

" _ **May?**_ " Maria sounded stern. " ** _You're around her place an awful lot._** "

"She is my girlfriend, y'know."

" ** _Fake girlfriend,_** " Maria corrected him. " ** _Next you're gonna tell me you wanna start really teaching history._** "

"Well, she doesn't know that. How am I supposed to date—'fake' date—someone I never see?"

" ** _You're 'required' to be there when the kid is home—and not even always, at that. Our covert surveillance at the Leed's says otherwise. Do I need to be concerned?_** "

"What?" Gavin demanded. "About what?"

Maria just exhaled a shaky laugh. " ** _Carver—c'mon. Just don't tell me you're getting too close to this. When Fury says you walk away, you walk away. You can't afford broken hearts and hurt feelings in this line of work, believe me._** "

"I know. This is me you're talking to. I don't do feelings, Hill. I'm not wired that way."

" ** _I hope so._** "


	3. London Calling

**GAVIN FORCED THE KEY IN** the lock, the door swinging open with a low creak. He tossed his keys on the counter, finding his way all too easily in the dark.

He hadn't really known a home before, so he wasn't sure what to do with his. The kitchenette was a mess, misshapen pans and plates next to spare throwing knives and a semi-automatic. He felt his way to the fridge, bathed in yellow light as he rustled around for a beer.

"Grab two," said a voice.

The bottle shattered as it hit the ground. Gavin was quick, drawing his gun and aiming it just beyond the fridge door. The stranger stepped forward, their face half concealed in shadow.

Gavin grimaced, holstering the gun. "Call ahead next time, would you?"

Nick Fury spread his hands apologetically, reaching over and flicking on the lights. "I don't see the point. You were never good with keeping appointments."

Gavin sighed audibly. Fury didn't make house calls unless he couldn't talk over a secure line—or wanted to keep him on his toes. Whatever the news, his night was about to get a whole lot more interesting. The man had a particular knack for that.

"Yeah. I'm the worst—what can I say," Gavin muttered, easing himself onto the couch. "What's going on? Is this about the Stark tech shipment?"

Fury nodded slowly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "Mostly. And of course, there's May Parker." He sat on the edge of the armchair; good eye searching Gavin's face for something, anything.

"What about her?" Gavin kept his tone level, but he felt his body stiffen.

"Your mission—" Fury began "—is too keep watch over the boy. To monitor his movements and his contacts—and report back. Peter Parker is now one of the world's best defenders, whether he realizes it or not. May Parker is merely a means to that end. I'd hate for you to tell me you've got your priorities in a twist."

"I don't." Gavin's expression hardened, folding his arms across his chest. "Despite whatever Hill might be whispering in your ear, I've got my head on straight. I know what's at stake here. I don't play like that—attachments. I don't appreciate being babysitted like this."

Fury gave a dismissive shrug. "Don't think I don't believe you. I just don't like to leave any stones unturned."

"Well, like you said—just a means to an end. But she has nothing to do with the Stark tech shipment. I thought you wanted my...expertise."

"We're a bit past that," Fury reached into his jacket, pulling out a small manila folder. He tossed it on the coffee table. "The tech you recovered was just stolen from a SHIELD facility upstate, presumably by the same group that was transporting it."

"Tell me you can track it."

"No, but, we think we might've identified a potential buyer. Not a name, just a profile. There's a private dock in Venice that gets a lot of black market foot traffic. A lot of what's gone through there fits the bill of what was in those crates. If we lose the tech in Italy, we lose it for good."

"Do you know when the deal's gonna go down?" Gavin was skeptical, flipping through the file.

"Also, no. But, it'll have to be soon. We doubt they'll want to sit on anything like that for too long—within the month."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Gavin demanded.

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Because there's a piece missing. I suspect you're the only person who can help us understand what we're up against." He leaned forward a bit. "The snake tattoo, the branding on the men at the shipyard—Hill said you recognized it. Is there anything we ought to know?"

Gavin chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah—stay the hell away from 'em." He leaned back, resting his head against the couch cushion. "They call themselves Kobra. They're mercenaries, assassins, smugglers—whatever they have to be to survive: literal snakes. Some ex-military—mostly former intelligence officers. They prefer jobs from high paying clients. Whoever wants that tech is even more desperate and dangerous then they are."

"Why hasn't SHIELD heard of them?" Fury was curious.

"No one has. And, they're obsessed with keeping it that way." Gavin put the file back on the table. "Where do I fit in here?"

"I want you on this—boots on the ground in Italy when the shipment comes in. Hill and I will be available if needed; monitoring the situation." Fury was firm, dipping his hand into his jacket pocket and producing a flash drive, sliding it across the table to him. "This is everything you need. Fill in the gaps where you see them."

Gavin turned the drive over in his hand, mind working a mile a minute. "What am I supposed to—" He exhaled sharply, choosing his next words very carefully. "What about the Parker assignment? May knows what her boyfriend looks like. Unless you've got a clone of me in storage someplace, I don't see that working out too well."

Fury nodded towards the drive in his hands. "You'll be keeping an eye on Parker in Italy. Think of it as bringing work with you."

Gavin shot him a dubious look. "What am I—taking the kid on vacation or something?"

Fury smiled wolfishly. "His entire class—plus two teachers. I hope you're good with kids, Mr. Carver."


	4. Happy Now?

**GAVIN HATED THE GLASSES. THEY** were non-prescription, of course, but didn't fit on the bridge of his nose right. The flannel was a bit more bearable, he just couldn't stand how much it itched. His shoulders were too broad—he felt stupid. He wasn't built for 'that nerdy hipster crap' as he made blatantly clear to Maria. She'd suggested a pair of Chelsea boots to pull the whole look together, and he almost plugged her right then and there.

He pushed his glasses up again. If anything good came out of this assignment, it'd be an appreciation for his 20/20 vision.

They been part of what was essentially his uniform for the last three months. Corduroy, button-ups and wool socks covered May's bed, next to his open suitcase. He held up a faded grey t-shirt. "What about this one?"

Gavin felt May's slender arms wrap around him from behind, her lips gently kissing the nape of his neck. "Mmm—I like it."

He huffed, tossing it off to the side. He was smiling, though, hand finding May's and squeezed it. "I'm not seeing that anytime soon, am I?"

May chuckled. "I'll take good care of it. You'll be reunited in two weeks."

Gavin severely doubted that. He threw a sweatshirt into the suitcase, watching as May snaked around him and sat on the edge of the bed. She started to fold some of the clothes.

"I still can't believe your college paid for all this. It's almost too good to be true. Peter's really excited—even though he doesn't show it."

"Yeah—well..." Gavin just shrugged, rolling up a few pairs of socks. "It's not all work, no play. I might've promised to write an essay—European architecture. It'll give the department a little boost. History enrollment's been down. And, I'm sure the school won't pass up the opportunity to bombard a bunch of high school kids with application info."

"Hey, that's great, though—the essay. You better let me read it," May told him, packing away a pile of shirts. "Oh—you should ask Peter to help you. Have him take pictures or something. It'd be cute—I'm glad you're gonna be spending time with him."

Gavin snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure he's thrilled."

"Don't be like that," she scolded. "He's just—he's been having a hard time bouncing back from...being gone. He's a special kid. He'll come around to you. This is just a good opportunity for you two to..." Her voice trailed off.

"What? _Bond_?" Gavin grinned.

May swatted his arm playfully. "Don't make fun of me, I'm serious! It'd mean a lot to me if you tired—okay? That's all."

"Alright, yeah—yeah, I will," he assured her, eyeing the growing pile of Now May's Shirts with a frown. "I'll even—"

"Uh—Gavin? Can I talk to you about something?" Gavin looked up from packing to find Peter in the narrow doorway, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, sure Pete," he said good naturedly. He stood, turning back to look at May.

' _Bonding moment_ ,' she mouthed.

Gavin rolled his eyes, almost walking smack into Peter. He looked small in the way that he carried himself—always doing something with his hands and flashing that endearing, twitchy smile. Gavin knew there was more too him, but wondered why the kid insisted on keeping it locked away.

"Uh, hey," Peter said again, biting his lip. "It's really cool you're gonna be on the trip and all, I just, um—and, I don't mean this in a bad way, really. You're uh, really cool, I just—"

Gavin laughed. "It's okay, Pete, I get it."

"You...do?"

"Yeah. You wanna have fun with your friends—like, uh, Neil—"

"Ned—"

"—without me breathing down your neck. Hanging out with your aunt's boyfriend is lame. I wouldn't wanna embarrass you. I know how it goes—I was in high school once too, ya know."

Peter sighed—sounding suspiciously relieved. "Oh—yeah, wow, that's...kinda what I was gonna say."

"Don't worry. I'll kinda be workin' anyway. You just do your thing—May told me you could use a break. I'll...be cool. Cool?"

"Cool," Peter echoed, nodding a bit. He went in for an awkward high five. Gavin humored him, biting his lip to keep himself from grinning.

If someone told him to guess Spider-Man's secret identity, Peter'd probably be one of the last names on his list. But knowing what he did, it was just flat out strange—the whole thing.

"Alright, yeah—May already told you she's gotta work tomorrow morning, right? So it's just gonna be me and you on the way to the airport. That's okay, right?"

"Yeah—yeah, that's okay," Peter forced his hands deeper into his pockets. "I'm almost done packing, so I should you know—do that—"

"Don't strain yourself, Pete." Gavin offered a small smile—as genuine as he could make it. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright?"

"Uh, yeah—okay." Peter hesitated for a moment, hurrying down the hall and disappearing into the safety of his room.

Gavin watched him go. "Oh, this'll be good. Thanks, Fury," he mumbled.


	5. Slow Ride

Paris 2009

 **GAVIN COLLAPSED IN THE ALLEYWAY** , back against the grit of the plaster. He wheezed, coughing up blood into his lap as his fingers closed around the .45—clip nearly empty. Gavin had fucked up, and now he had to pay for it—that was just the life.

It was hard to ignore the aching, both his head and the bullet lodged between two of his ribs. He was going to die there, choking on himself in the mind-fogging dark.

Hell of a way to go.

Gavin wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard the footsteps, accompanied by that now-familiar chuckle.

"Wow—I sure did a number on you, Princess." The woman from the hotel bar was standing over him, still in that damn blue dress. Her heels were swinging in one hand; a pistol in the other.

"F-Fuck—" Gavin convulsed and coughed, spraying blood down his front "—you."

She crouched next to him, forcing the gun from his grip and tossing it aside. "Even if I did swing that way, you'd at least have to buy me dinner first. C'mon—up," she promptly. The woman was stronger than she looked, pulling him to his feet and resting his weight against her.

"W—What're—what's—" Gavin began, not before succumbing to another coughing fit.

"I suggest shutting your trap, unless you're itching to lose what little blood you have left."

That part of the city was quiet, a neighborhood of shuttered windows and yellow-lighted lamp posts. The woman practically dragged him for a block or two, stopping in front of a nondescript door flanked by a row of town homes and a bakery. "Alright—bear with me, Princess," she muttered, forcing the door open. "It's one just one flight."

Gavin, as if on cue, crumbled at the foot of the stairs. The woman propped him up against the wall,feeling his neck for a pulse. "You're a real basket case, huh? I'll be back in sec—just don't die on me."

She raced upstairs, leaving Gavin alone in the dingy entryway. He figured he was already dead and gone—he had to be. So, he let himself drift off, not even realizing the woman had reappeared next to him. She pressed a thick cloth to his wound, moving his hand on top of it. "Hold that. I know someone who can take that brass out of you, but it'll be an hour or two. Try not to croak until then."

He didn't say a word, feeling her thumb working to clear away the dirt and grime on his face. Up close, he could see she was harder than she looked. Tough, but still finding her feet.

He knew the feeling.

"S...So, what?" he croaked, finding the strength to straighten up a bit. "You try and blow me away and now you're playing doctor?"

She sat back on her heels, adjusting his hand on the cloth. "You talk a lot. If you must know, there's been a change in plans."

"For what?" he demanded. "Who do you work for, huh? Klaw?"

The woman laughed. "No. I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D—what, you piss him off too?"

S.H.I.E.L.D—just the name left a bitter taste in his mouth. They were like the CIA, but with rich parents and a rule book that read like polite suggestions. There was something to be said about their style. What made it unpleasant was—literally—being on the other end of the gun. "You guys are freakin' nuts. I'm lucky you're such a shitty shot, otherwise I'd be lying on a metal table right now."

"I hit you right where I wanted to," the woman sighed, flopping down on the floor. Her hands her stained with blood. "I told you, there's been a change in plans. That shot was supposed to cut clean through your heart, Gavin." She looked right at him, eyes cold. "That is your name, isn't it? Your real one?"

Gavin just gave a weak nod. "Yeah. You got one? I'm guessing it ain't Marla."

"Close," she couldn't help but smile. "I'm Maria."

"Tell me, then, what spurred S.H.I.E.L.D's change of heart? I hope it wasn't intel. Everything I do gets traced back to me—I work alone."

Maria rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. You were down at that warehouse to meet your buyer alone—no—and were going to move that entire shipment by yourself—also no."

"Fair enough," Gavin said bitterly. "But they're long gone by now." He shook his head in dismissal. "Those bastards really let me get my ass handed to me. That's the business, I guess, but I still don't get why I'm here."

"I don't know. I have my orders. I don't know what Fury wants with you. If I were you, I'd consider myself lucky." Maria studied him carefully, as if trying to figure it out for herself. "Y'know, it's not always a bad thing."

"Yeah, right. Let me tell you something. Whatever I touch—" he gripped her hand, turning it over and flashing his stained palm "—dies bloody."

"...Then we'll get along just fine."


End file.
